On the highway

It's amazing how the sights and sounds
you attempted to capture in the day
change character when darkness descends

The trees, the ponds and wells
ancient temples and sprawling churches
paddy fields and pools of water

coconut trees and a cloud-laden sky
bananas, apples and oranges hanging from ramshackle roofs

newest cars parked inside sprawling bungalows
school children with neatly combed hair, backpacks and eyes that light up when they see the camera
tiny courtyards of little houses;
dark, mysterious interiors that hold secrets of lives like yours and mine
disappear into thin air,
replaced by rows after rows of houses and shops; indistinguishable, continuous,

lit so bright that you can see inside;
the man in a mundu, seated on the floor watching television, lights dancing on his hairy chest,
a boy kneeling in front of the altar, looking upwards, palms joined...

temples look like haunted houses, the sky dark and starless, 

bright red flags of the communists

triangles and rectangles, on strings and poles,
blend with the road 

appearing briefly when a speeding vehicle's light reflects on them -
less menacing, subdued and almost subservient...

It is true  

somethings die and somethings come to life
when darkness descends on the highway